


You Should Be Scared of Me

by aware



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, GTAV!AU, Multi, Smith gets angry a lil bit, drinking/alcohol mention, heavily inspired by Fake AH Crew idk, its like heist crew au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:59:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aware/pseuds/aware
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And all the kids cried out,<br/>'Please stop, you're scaring me,<br/>I can't help this awful energy,<br/>Goddamn right, you should be scared of me,<br/>Who is in control?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If You Say So

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT:  
> Because of recent events, I am never writing a Yogfic again. I apologise for any inconvenience.

"Fuck."  
Smith gripped the sniper rifle harder, the target slipping out of the sights once again. It was getting late, the darkness covering the city like a blanket, and the entrance to the club grew busier. The person he was asked to kill would slip inside soon, and he couldn't let that happen.  
He loved this feeling - sitting on rooftops and hiding away, cleanly ending the lives of people who needed to be killed. It was peaceful, but stressful. When he started, the weight of death lay heavy on his shoulders, but now he could brush it off, only a small twinge of guilt lurking in the pit of his soul.  
Finally he could get a clean shot, squeezing hard on the trigger and watching as the target fell down. Smirking, he grabbed the rifle, slung it over his shoulder and quietly walked down the staircase to the roads below. 

Pushing his way through the door into the apartment, he attracted the attention of Trott, the skilled interrogator. In the time that Smith had known him, he had never left a room without the information he needed.  
"Did you do it?" Smith knew he was talking about the assassination - and he nodded in reply before slumping down on the couch, sighing.  
"Easy, mate. Where's the rest of 'em?" As far as he could see, the rest of the crew weren't home, something that generally put Smith on edge. He wouldn't say it outloud, but he cared greatly for each and every member. He liked coming home to the people he cared for, especially in this line of work, where anything could happen to anyone.  
"They've gone somewhere. Picking up some supplies, I think. I know that Kim and Duncan went for groceries, and Ross went with Rythian to pick up some body armour and ammo, and of course, the others are off for guns and cars like usual." Trott shrugged.  
"I know that Zoey's had her eye on a new Zentorno, would that have anything to do with it? I'm aware that Hannah, Lewis and Martyn have had to put up with her talking about it all the time. Ross has probably given in and sourced one." The two guys chuckled at their friends, relaxing in the knowledge that they can handle themselves and they wouldn't get into any trouble with their tasks.  
"So who did you actually take out? It was one of the other gang's people, right?" Trott asked Smith, Hannah not bothering to inform the whole crew before sending Smith out on his task. Turns out, the assassination of one of the higher members of SipsCo was the start of something big. 

The others returned late in the night; the recognisable sound of super cars pulling up into the garage woke Smith up. He heard the laughter from down the hall as Kim and Duncan bid their farewells to the rest and went off to their room. A faint whisper of Kim's giggle was heard and Smith smiled to himself as he heard familiar doors shut and familiar voices. With the comfort that everyone was okay, he fell asleep again. 

"Alright, you bastards, time to get up!" Hannah's voice rang through the large apartment, the soft groans of Ross in the room next door made Smith smile as he hauled himself out of bed and into the shower. They had a rota in this house, for the mornings, as there was only three showers. Today, Smith had priority and he kicked Kim out of the bathroom before taking his sweet time in the hot water. Today, heist planning began.

“Hey.”  
Smith looked up from his phone. Leaning on the table in front of him was Ross, and Smith’s chest tightened ever so slightly.  
“You alright, mate?” He replied, trying not to make him aware of the nerves he could feel. For whatever reason, the dark haired man in front of him made him feel like his insides were exploding.  
“Yeah, you could say that. Uh, I need some help with the cars, and the others are all busy at the moment. Could you come down to the garage?” Ross questioned, and Smith saw the car oil all over his hands and realised that he had the biggest part in this heist. Ross was the crew’s mechanic, and on this mission, he had to fix up 5 separate cars. Smith agreed and they walked down to the bottom of the complex, Ross opening the door to the crisp white garage. Smith’s eyes skimmed over the 10 cars, one for each member, with their respective colours. He smiled as he saw his dark green Pegassi Osiris in the far corner, Ross catching his gaze from the corner of his eye.  
“So we’re using my T20,” Ross pointed out his blue car in the back of the garage, “your car, Kim’s Zentorno - actually it’s got fire damage, better use Martyn’s. Also, we’re using Duncan’s T20, and Zoey’s new Zentorno because that doesn’t need any work doing to it.” He sighed, and gestured for Smith to follow him. “We need to refix the bulletproof plating on both the T20’s and new tires for yours, the rest seem pretty much fine. Can you do the tires on yours?” Smith nodded and went off to fix up his car.

When he had finished, he sat on the couch that Ross had down there - watching Ross as he finished off, mesmerised by the small crease in between his eyebrows that formed when he was concentrating. There was something about Ross that just made Smith feel like he was home.

When he joined the crew, a few months after Smith did, he was so nervous. He told Smith in his first week that he’d never been in a crew - he had only worked in the small garage downtown. But apparently that didn’t pay the bills, the paycheck was just too small. So when he started, he was surprised at the sheer amount of money they all had. He and Smith had spent so many nights talking - about their ‘past lives’, the family they’d left behind, the small things they thought about. Since then, Ross has grown more confident, and they both had no time to talk like they used to. But Smith didn’t stop feeling, he couldn’t stop imagining how his lips would feel on his own, and how his hair would feel if he ran his fingers through it. 

Smith had been on at least 12 life threatening heists in the last six months - and he never noticed the look on Ross’ face every time he would come home vaguely injured. Being the best gunman in the crew, he also was the most at risk. God, Ross would be so worried when he would hang back in the garages every heist, hoping that something hadn’t happened to his friend. But of course, Smith never realises.  
“Do you want a drink? Or something to eat?” Smith stood from his seat, averting his eyes from Ross as he looks up at him.  
“Sure. Can you get me a can of pringles?” Ross smiled sheepishly whilst Smith shook his head slightly.  
“Mate, that’s like... the eighth can this week. How can you eat so many pringles?!”  
“It’s a talent. Now go, I’m hungry.”

 _“And all the kids cried out ‘please stop you’re scaring me’_ ,” Smith sang quietly as he walked up the stairs, _“I can’t help this awful energy._ ” He opened the door to the main part of the apartment, his brow creasing in confusion when there was no one around. “ _Goddamn right, you should be scared of me,_ ” He picked up the folded note on the worktop, scanning the text quickly. It was from Trott, him basically saying that they had all gone drinking and wouldn’t be back until late. Smith continued to sing quietly under his breath as he considered what to drink. _“Who is in control?”_

He pulled out two beers from the fridge and grabbed the tube of Pringles, trudging down to the garages once again. He slumped down on the sofa next to Ross, passing him his drink and snack, popping open his own beer. They sat in comfortable silence, sipping at their beers.  
“I miss you.” Smith’s head snaps round to Ross, who was staring right at him. “I miss the 3am talks, I miss eating lunch together, I miss the coffee you make, I miss the times you sing in the shower and God, Smith, I miss you.” Ross exhaled, and Smith swallowed visibly, his mouth becoming dry. It felt like it wasn’t real - he wanted to pinch himself and wake up from the dream of seeing the emotion behind Ross’ eyes and the way those very stormy eyes flicked over his lips and he froze.

He sat, not knowing what to do, what to say - before he couldn’t help it anymore. He moved forwards and leant his forehead against Ross’. Ross inhaled sharply and licked his lips, his insides flipping over and over again. They both weren’t sure who moved kissed first, but it didn’t really matter at all. 

When they broke apart, they smiled fondly at each other before Smith got up from his position.  
“I’m going to bed.”

When Smith got to his room, safe in the knowledge that Ross was at least two floors below him and everyone else was out, he slammed his door and punched the wall next to his bed. He swore before he heard the creak of the hallway beyond his door. Ross had followed him. He knocked cautiously on Smith’s bedroom door before slipping inside and sitting next to the obviously distressed man who had sunk to the floor.  
“What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?” He placed a hand on his shoulder and relaxed slightly when he didn’t pull away.  
“Ross… I’m a trained killer. There’s no way you can miss someone like me. I’ve spent the last 3 years hiding in alleys and on rooftops, holding guns and knives and killing people. I’m not good, I’m not nice. You don’t want me.” He rested his head in his hands, sighing slightly.  
“I do want you though. I can’t be without you, Smith. I’m not exactly an angel myself.” Ross leant his head on Smith’s shoulder. “Smith… I-I think you’re an excellent human being. I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Smith placed his head on top of Ross’.  
“If you say so.”


	2. There's Something Very Wrong With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Endless romantic stories  
> You never could control me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://play.spotify.com/user/delphoxia/playlist/0l3qv8GW7LhDkdLPfezr2R

Ross wasn’t sure when he fell asleep. He woke when the light from the unclosed curtains dowsed him in light. He sat up, realising he was in Smith’s bed. Also, he was pretty certain he fell asleep leaning on Smith's shoulder. Worried, he slipped out of the room in search of his slightly taller friend. 

There was no one else awake in the house, and from the fact at least three of his friends were passed out on the sofa, they wouldn't be awake for a while. He pulled out his phone and glanced at it, the time reading quarter to seven. Grabbing the opened can of Pringles on the kitchen worktop he jumped slightly in surprise as a small note fluttered out from underneath. 

_Ross,_

_I don't know where I'm going right now. I've taken my gun. I'll be safe. Maybe.  
Ignore the news. Tell Hannah not to worry about the 'serial murders' it's just me trying to... figure stuff out. _

_I'm sorry about the way I am. God, if I'm out killing just to sort out my mind, there's something very wrong with me._

_I love you, but you shouldn't love me._

_-Smith_

Ross sighed at the note, looking around the apartment. He stuffed it into his pocket, quietly making his way down to the garage. Smith's Osiris was gone, and on the floor he saw a small note on the windscreen of his own car. 

Hah, don't try and find me. 

Smith knew Ross way too well. All he wanted to do was find Smith and comfort him, but he knew that this time he shouldn't. He thought about the song he always sang under his breath when he thought no one could hear. Ross racked his brain trying to remember the lyrics.   
_"Goddamn right, you should be scared of me, who is in control?"_ He whispered to the unnerving silence of the apartment. 

Meanwhile, Smith was crouching on a medium height office building, sniping anyone in the back allies who looked like they were causing trouble. He wouldn't say it made him happy, it just made him feel in control. Like he could end things with just a single move of his finger on the trigger. The screams of the bystanders unnerved him but he also relished it - knowing he had changed people’s lives, and they were scared. Scoped, he couldn’t see the black-clad man scaling the building, aiming for Smith situated on the top of the skyscraper. 

Silently, the tall man pulled himself onto the rooftop, sighing very faintly at the sniper.   
“My God, Smith.” He muttered. Smith whipped his head round, drawing the pistol from his jacket. “Woah, hold your horses, it’s just me!” Rythian took a step back, hands raised, and smirked at the disbelief in Smith’s eyes.  
“Wha-How? How did you…?” Smith exhaled grumpily as all he did was laugh at his statement.  
“That’s none of your business. We tracked you down at the apartment, after Ross said you had gone out. Also, sniping? Goddamn, Smith. Gotta find you another way to let go. C’mon, Hannah wants to speak to you. And I believe, so does Ross.”  
They both got into Smith’s car, falling into companionable silence as he pulled out of the alley he had abandoned his car in. Rythian is very good at silence, so it seems. It had started to get on Smith’s nerves, and Rythian could tell.   
“What’s happened to make you go off on one like this again? Last time it was when you went into that gunfight and almost got Ross shot because he was driving you, and the time before that it was when I got kidnapped by that Sips guy and you’d thought it was your fault. Is everything okay?” Rythian glanced at Smith, noticing the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel a little tighter when he mentioned Ross. He didn’t bring it up, but he made a mental note to talk to Trott about it later. Trott noticed everything odd about his two best friends.

Smith pulled the car into the garage, and he immediately noticed Ross look up in surprise. He was working on his car again, even when it didn’t need any work. It was a nervous habit Smith had noticed. He saw Ross ponder if he should get up and come over to him, but he just looks into Smith’s eyes and carries on working. Smith sighs and exits the car, walking off to the stairs, Rythian following behind him. Ross catches Rythian’s eye and mouths a short ‘thank you’, and in response, he nods curtly and starts to ascend the stairs.

“What were you thinking?! Not only were you putting yourself and the crew in danger, you were sniping on SipsCo territory! Are you insane? You could’ve been killed!” Hannah had called a group meeting as soon as she had heard that Smith had returned. Smith was leaning against the back wall of the conference room, and everyone else were sitting around the table, looking between Hannah who was standing up, slamming her palm on the table and Smith, who hadn’t said anything since he had got back.   
“Insane, yes. Who knows what he was thinking? It’s not like he’s never done it before. Just leave him be, Hannah,” Lewis sighed from the seat on her left hand side. “Let him go back to his room and maybe Ross or Trott can get through to him.” Hannah sat down angrily, and nodded at Lewis. “Remember everyone, we have the SipsCo meeting tomorrow. Be ready in here by eight. Alright. You can go.”

Smith was out of that door like a shot - planning on finding his way back down to his car and getting the hell out of here. He had just got out the door when he felt a strong hand on his arm pulling him back.  
“Go to your room, Smith.” He recognised Martyn’s stern but kind voice and he sighed and walked off to his room. He lay on his bed, staring at the marks that were up there. He wasn’t sure what was up there exactly, but it was his way of venting when he had just started the crew - before he found that murder was more fun and effective. Blocks of colour, words, letters, and patterns littered the walls, reminding him of just how bad he felt back then. Everyone here thought he wasn’t worth the hassle. For some reason, he felt he wasn’t worth the praise that his crew members gave him, and he thought he wasn’t worth the love that Ross was giving.


	3. Do It For Fiona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song is intoxicated by the cab :)

Smith fell asleep late. It was long after everyone had shut their doors and it was relaxing being in the silence of the house. After a few hours of tossing and turning, he woke and took a shower being as quiet as he could considering it was half four. It didn't stop him from singing though.

Zoey heard him from her room - she hadn't fallen asleep yet and it didn't matter as she wasn't going to the meeting. She smiled, and was glad that maybe Smith would be alright. Well, as alright as an obviously anxious killer could be.

When Smith got out of the shower, he jumped at the sight of Zoey leaning up against the wall by the door.  
"You sang again." She whispered, not wanting to wake up the others in the house.  
"Yes. I did. Did I wake you? Sorry." Smith shuffled on the spot slightly, very aware that he was only wearing a towel.  
"No. If you want, we can meet in the kitchen when we're both dressed? I'm still in my PJ's and you're...well... I wanna talk to you?" Zoey seemed unsure. The pair hadn't really spent a lot of time together. Zoey usually hung around with Kim, Martyn and Rythian, and Smith hung round with... himself.

Quickly, Smith threw on his burgundy shirt and jeans, putting his feet into his boots. He snuck out of his room, shutting the door gently so no one could hear and pulled a hoodie over his head. The kitchen had one small light on, and Zoey was sat on one of the stools, a cup of tea in her hand and a steaming mug of coffee was next to her.  
"I made you coffee!" Smith smiled, sat and sighed, warming his hands around the mug. The coffee was made just to his liking and it surprised him. "I know what coffee you like. You're my friend. And we all love you here, and I know you're feeling anxious and scared and sad - but that's okay!" Zoey put her hand on Smith's shoulder. "It's okay, Smith. It's okay to not know what you are feeling, and it's okay to be upset. Your feelings are valid, and we know that you're obviously going through a rough patch. The others are just worried about you. You'll be okay. You'll work it out." Zoey smiled at Smith, who had turned his head away. "Smith?"  
"Thank you, Zoey." Smith's voice was a little choked, and he brought one of his hands up to his face. He was crying. Smith was crying. “Don’t tell the others about this though, I’m not…” he sniffed, “I’m not the sort of person who cries.” Zoey smiled fondly and patted his shoulder. “Of course I won’t. Now, I know there’s someone in this building that is really worried about you.” Smith snuffled and dried his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie.  
“Ross.”  
“Yep. Now, uh, I think you need to smooth things out with him. He loves you Smith. And by the look in your eyes, you love him too. Don’t -” Zoey shut her eyes and took a deep breath, and Smith realised she was trying to tell him something that was very hard to say. “Don’t wait. Stop waiting.” Smith furrowed his brow. He didn’t quite understand what she was trying to say.  
“Wha-What do you mean?” Zoey took another breath.  
“Uh, before you started at the crew, there was another member. I - She - I was in love with her. And uh,” Zoey blinked a few times “She died. And I still kick myself about it because I was in the building where she was. I was right by her, I could’ve done something and… She never knew how much I loved her.” Zoey whimpered slightly before letting a tear slide down her face. “So Smith, take your chance. Stop waiting. Do it for Fiona.”

 

Kim and Duncan lumbered into the kitchen at around 5. Zoey had wandered off to her room a few minutes back. The pair jumped when they saw Smith staring at them from the island.  
“Ah. I see. Nice shirt, Kim.” She blushed when she realised she was only wearing Duncan’s t-shirt and underwear, the purple tattoos that littered her arm on show.  
“Shh, Smithy, you can’t tell anyone, y’hear me?!” Kim glared at Smith, embarrassed that Smith had found out about her and Duncan.  
“My lips are sealed, my small friend.” He managed a small smile before getting up and squeezing past the pair, patting Duncan on the back. He shut himself in his room, pacing around for a while. He was trying to work out how he would apologize to Ross for being such a jerk, and how he’d completely screwed everything over. He had to do something. He had to do it for Fiona, and Zoey. He had to do it for himself, and he had to do it soon.

It neared 7am and Ross began to hear movement. He lay still in his bed, smiling faintly as he listened to the things that made this business a little more bearable. Kim and Martyn laughing together, Rythian sighing at Zoey who was babbling about something she found on the internet the other day. The sound of Trott greeting someone with “You alright, sunshine?” and his ears settled on the sound of pacing coming from the room next to his. It wasn’t the first time Ross had heard Smith do this - and he liked the steady rhythm his footsteps created. Smith was very much like this, in Ross’ eyes. The constant beat, but he had variation. One day he would be slow and relaxed like a leisurely indie song and sometimes he was rapid and heated like a punk rock track. There was one he remembered from when Smith and Ross were closer. Ross whispered it to the bustle of the apartment.

_When you cry yourself to sleep tonight, you will wish that I was by your side, yes you will_

He lay there taking in the environment before hearing Smith’s door shut and he decided that he would get up and make his way to the conference room. The meeting was about to commence and he slunk into the chair next to Smith, who looked around and smiled shyly. Lewis whistled to get everyone’s attention and Hannah started talking.  
“Right, scrublords. Let’s get this motherfucker started.”

Half an hour later, Smith was in his car, Ross in the seat next to him. They both didn’t have much to do on this part of the heist, they were both there for backup if the meeting went pear shaped. So Smith decided to invite Ross to a talk in the privacy of the car.  
“I’m sorry, Ross. I know I probably made you feel really bad and I don’t - I haven’t - fuck, I don’t know what to say.” Smith regressed to his silence.  
“It’s okay. I think I get what you’re trying to say.”  
“Ross, I - I don’t think you do,” Ross shifted his eyes to meet Smith’s. “I mean - I don’t - There’s something in my brain which tells me that you - you shouldn’t love me because I’m a guy who kills to calm down and paints on his walls and paces for hours…” Ross nods, trying to let Smith know he understood what he meant without words. “I really love you, Ross, and I don’t want to waste anymore of the time we have in worrying about it. We’re living a life where we could be separated at any moment, and I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t even try. So, I’m guessing what I’m saying is, I love you, and I - I want to make this work.”  
Ross smiles as Smith hides his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie. As Smith wasn’t looking at Ross, he moved his hand up to his face and tilted it towards him.  
“I love you too, Smith.” Their faces were so close, and Smith could feel Ross’ hot breath on his face. All it took was Smith’s quick glance to Ross’ lips and he gently pressed them onto Smith’s, sighing as he ran his hands through the ginger-brown goodness that was his hair. Smith felt like he didn’t need to say another word to Ross - he fully understood what Smith was telling him.


	4. The YogCrew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agh. short chapter. I wanted to get this out though, so I can really start moving on with the plot. I'm quite looking forward to where this story goes. Be sure to check out the spotify playlist (the link is on the earlier chapters)! it's also mostly dialogue and a bit of smornby fluff. but it's fun parvill dialogue. (in the distance, shouting: "plot!")

“Shh…” The man whispered to his companion, his glasses glinting slightly. “I think Sips is around somewhere, we gotta be careful.”

“Shut up, I know,” he lightly tugged on his friends sleeve, signalling which way they should go through the darkened corridors of SipsCo.

“This way, Strife. I think it's clear.” The pair sneaked through the hallway, the white walls reflecting ever so slightly. The moonlight shone through the window at the far end, and they could see the water of the lake shimmering. The pair slunk down towards the room at the end, knowing that no one would be around for at least two hours. Sips wasn’t fond of workplace relationships, and that meant if they were caught they would probably get kicked out. Which meant being virtually hunted by the other gangs, hungry for knowledge on one of the top crews in the city. That was something they did not want at all. The door clicked gently shut behind them, Parv flicking on the lights. He flopped onto the bed, sighing as Strife sat next to him. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking over at his friend, revelling in the way his profile looked in the soft 3am light. Strife’s back was straight with tension, his face fixed into a frown. Painted with concern, Parv sat up further, placing his hand on Strife’s shoulder. “Hey…” Strife looked over to the dark haired man. 

“Will… are you alright? What’s up?”

“I just - I’m scared, Parv. Ridge was shot down a few days ago. Sips thinks it was the YogCrew.” Parv’s eyes went wide.

“Ridge is - wait - the YogCrew?! I thought they weren’t around?”

“They’re the rival gang, Parv. Sips doesn’t like saying their name. Something to do with his past and some of the members. Sjin told me earlier.”

“Ridge got shot? Why?”

“He was on their territory. Apparently he refused to leave after he was contacted by one of the crew, and they shot him.”

“Well fair enough I guess. He should’ve left, the idiot.” Parv sighed. He wasn’t on good terms with him anyway, so he wasn’t bothered by his absence. “Wait, Strife,” He tapped his arm, trying to get his attention. “This could be our way out! The YogCrew!”

“Wh- What are you talking about? Way out?” Strife’s brow creased in confusion as Parv’s eyes lit up with hope.

“Strife, I know a certain paramedic that works for them. We’ve been friends since we both started crew work. He should be able to help us out.”

“Why would we leave here, Parv? Sips would hunt us down before we could leave this area. We would be dead by the time we got to their base in the city. That’s a good, I don’t know, six kilometers?”

“We could be together and we wouldn’t have to hide, Strife. They would let us, I’m sure of it. Also, I really, really, do not like Sjin.”

“Oh. I see. You wanna get out of here because of the incident, right?” Parv nodded gently, eyes glazing over slightly as he recalled the event.

“I don’t want to be around him anymore, Strife. He’ll just try and do it again. I don’t like it. He scares me.”

“Alright, text your friend and ask him then. Explain everything you can, we want them to trust us. If it comes to it, we’ll pay for the places with information. I’ll think of a way to get us out of here. It’s going to be hard, but we’ll try our best, and we’ll get out of this together.” Strife smiled a little. “Also, if they’re targeting members I do not want to be shot.” Parv giggled a little bit and pressed a short kiss to his lips.

“God, I love you, you big nerd. Thank you.” He went to pull away but Strife enclosed him in a hug.

“I love you too.”

 

Smith and Ross sat in the car, both with a light sprinkling of pink on their cheeks, intently listening to the radio they had brought with them. Hannah, Lewis and Trott had just left for the SipsCo office just south of the Alamo Sea, so everyone else was just hanging out in the garages or in their cars. Smith glanced over at Ross, making sure he wasn’t looking, and slid his hand across and entwined their fingers. Ross jumped from the sudden contact, but smiled down at their hands. Smith may be a killer, but he sure as hell loved holding hands. He had a small, shy smile on his face and Ross giggled. Smith looked up, and smiled wider at his friend.

“It’s so weird to see you so bashful, Smith. It’s adorable.” Smith blushed hard, trying to hide his face, but Ross stopped him. He lightly pecked his nose, making the blush spread and turn a deeper fuchsia colour, and leant his head on his shoulder. It made Smith grin, and he finally thought that maybe this would actually work out.


End file.
